


No Place I'd Rather Be

by hmmhmmhmm



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Also in this one I named Sun and Moon instead of just leaving them as Sun and Moon, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, and also because of Guzma's implied past, as in it doesn't even start to develop that way until years later, because of how Lusamine treats her kids, kind of, like it doesn't get romantic until later, like much later, the house on route 2 with the broken golf clubs to be specific
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-21 18:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11949834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmmhmmhmm/pseuds/hmmhmmhmm
Summary: For the longest time nothing feels exactly real to Guzma. He wonders if it's because of his time in Ultra Space or if it always felt that way and he just never noticed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The implied/referenced child abuse is kept vague, and the implications of it can be found [here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/pokemon/comments/5e2p54/a_house_on_route_2_depicts_a_house_riddled_with/)
> 
> I basically wrote this while listening to the lilo & stitch sound track.

“You there, big fellow. Carry the lady, will you? She is weak, but I do not believe that she is seriously harmed. We should take her to be treated directly.”

He jumps at the sound of the pipsqueak in the purple bonnet addressing him.

“Huh? Oh...”

Right. Lusamine. Normally Guzma wouldn’t be taking orders disguised as requests from anyone, but considering everything that has happened in the past three hours (maybe? It was hard to tell time in Ultra Space, for all he knows they could’ve been in there for days) he wasn’t completely himself at the moment.

As carefully as he can manage, he picks the president up and descends the ridiculously long staircase. Who thought this many stairs was a good idea? Especially at such a steep incline. He’s about a quarter of the way down before pipsqueak joins him. When they’re halfway down there’s the very distinct sound of a battle going on back at the top. At the bottom of the staircase Lillie, Lusamine’s kid if Guzma remembers right, catches up with them.

It’s very telling of his current state of mind that he doesn’t realize that Tiluo isn’t with them until after they’ve already gotten on a boat heading for Aether Paradise and have already departed from Poni Island.

*****

He’d never admit it out loud, but Guzma knows he owes that brat – Tiluo – for getting him out of the weirdness that was Ultra Space, but he honestly has no idea how to repay the debt, which he’d like to do as soon as possible since he’d rather not be indebted to anyone at all. He figures that Lillie would probably be the best person to ask about what the kid could possibly want or need, but she somehow misinterprets it as him actually wanting to know things about the kid, which he doesn’t. The only thing he cares to know – as in really, truly know – is how to finally beat him in a battle, but Guzma will do that on his own.

So in the following days while they wait for Lusamine to wake up Lillie tells him useless, numerous facts about Tiluo and he has to resist the urge to tear his bleach blond hair out.

It was all:

“Mr. Guzma, did you know that Tiluo’s family is actually from Alola and that his parents moved to Kanto after he was born? He has a cousin named Tehanu in Konikoni City. I met her when Nebby wanted to go to the Ruins of Life!”

Or:

“He’s got such a sweet-tooth. I caught him walking out of a shop with at least five Sweet Malasadas! I swear, Hau is such a bad influence on him when it comes to food, I’m surprised neither of them have gotten any cavities.”

It was all a bunch of nonsense as far as Guzma was concerned, but Lillie looked like she needed something to preoccupy her mind to keep it off of worrying about her mom and it wasn’t like the kid was expecting him to actually contribute to the conversation, so if she needed to babble, well, he let her. It gave him time to really think about what he was going to do now, because he wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

“You know, I asked Tiluo once what he was going to do when he finished his island challenge. Do you know what he said to me?”

Guzma looks up at her from where he’s seated, the two of them sitting on either side of Lusamine’s bed, while Gladion works on catching up on the backlog of paperwork that had developed at the desk on the other side of the room. He doesn’t need to look over at Gladion to know that he’s listening to what Lillie has to say too; the sound of pen on paper has stopped. 

When she’s certain she has Guzma’s attention she continues.

“He said, ‘I don’t know.’ It was such a relief to hear that someone like him, someone who’s strong and always seems so sure-footed, could feel unsure about the future. It felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders in that moment, knowing that it was okay that I hadn’t any idea about what I wanted to do after saving my mother. Now though, I do have an idea about how to move forward, to help me figure out what I would like to do.”

Then she turns her head to look at her brother.

“Gladion, after mother wakes, I’ll be going to Kanto.”

There’s the sound of a chair violently scrapping across the floor as it’s pushed back and then the siblings are arguing and Guzma has tuned them out once more. Quietly, he rises from his chair and leaves the room to allow them privacy for their argument. Of course as soon as the door has clicked shut behind him, he has no idea where to go. He could wander the halls, but he’s pretty sure he’d just get lost.

He decides to just go outside, get some fresh air after being cooped up in that room with the two siblings.

The sunlight, though harsh at its peak during midday, feels great after having nothing but artificial lighting for the past few days and the strange light of Ultra Space for however long they had been in there.

Guzma sits outside beside the front door for what seems like only a few minutes before Gladion comes storming out and away.

 _Kid’s got a worse temper than me,_ he idly thinks as he leans back against the wall more comfortably as he snorts at himself. _Who are you calling ‘kid?’ You’re not much older than him yourself, idiot._

*****

Well, here he is, standing on the porch of the home – no, house – he hasn’t seen since he was 13 years old, which was only four years ago but now seems like it was another lifetime. His little trip into Ultra Space has really messed with his sense of time, though the scientists or doctors or whatever they were over in Aether Paradise told him that it was just a lingering side effect of being in another dimension and should pass with time.

Guzma doesn’t buy it, but then again he doesn’t know anything about alternate dimensions or universes.

Should he knock or just go in? It’s not like his parents moved out and another family moved in. He’d checked at Hau’oli’s City Hall. He knows, but it doesn’t stop the buildup of nerves. Did they box up his stuff? Toss it all out? Does he even have a room anymore? What if they tell him to leave and never come back? If they did it wouldn’t be the worst thing, but he doesn’t have a lot of places he’d be welcomed at. Plumeria went back home to her Granny’s trailer and she blew a gasket about Team Skull getting disbanded, so she probably doesn’t want to see him for a long while, if ever again. Lillie and Gladion said he could stay at Aether Paradise whenever he wanted, and if he really needed to he could always go back to Po Town. It’s not like anyone would be trying to move back into that place any time soon.

Guzma breaks from that train of thought, roughly scrubbing his hands through his hair and sighing loudly. He’s been standing out here too long and he needs to make a choice.

Knock on the door or turn around and leave?

Stay or run?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

*****

He’s turning over a new leaf, trying to get a fresh start. Or at least, he hopes he is.

His parents welcomed him back, not exactly with open arms, but they hadn’t boxed up or tossed out his stuff, so it was something at least. They hadn’t even told him to get lost.

First thing he did was grab a dust rag and wipe down everything in his room, except for the old trophies. He couldn’t bring himself to touch those. Second thing was opening all the windows to let out that nasty stale scent that had developed from lack of use. Third thing was that he bagged up all of the old clothes that wouldn’t fit him now, and left them out in the living room. His mom would know what to do with them. Donate them probably.

He stitches a red ‘X’ over the Team Skull insignia on his jacket, keeps his gold chain shoved into the back of the top drawer of his desk along with his asymmetrical sunglasses, and covers up his tattoos with makeup. He’ll probably get new tattoos someday to cover these ones up, but for now this will do.

Guzma wonders if this is enough to start to feel different. He doesn’t feel different, like he’s about to have an epiphany, like he’ll know what to do next. Instead, he still feels listless, like he’s not completely here, not completely himself. Numb. He feels numb.

*****

Lillie’s been sending him letters from Kanto. 

He has no clue how she got this address.

The kid mostly talks about how different it is compared to Alola; sometimes she even includes pictures of the different towns and cities she sees. She’ll mention how Lusamine is doing, how much progress in her recovery has been made. Apparently this guy Bill has been a big help. His process of cell separation isn’t quite what the president needs, but it’s a good jumping off point for them. She sends him a letter about once a week. Guzma never writes back, but he keeps them all on his desk.

*****

It’s nearly two months after the whole Ultra Space shebang when he finally sees Tiluo again.

And of course the little brat doesn’t run into him in a normal way. No, he just waltzes right into Guzma’s home like he owns the place with a big dopey grin on his face. Just looking at the dumb kid makes his blood boil, anger and irritation finally breaking through the sturdy wall of numbness he had been feeling until now and he’s talking before he even figures out what he wants to say.

(He’d probably ask how he got this address, but he figures he hasn’t been the only person Lillie has been writing to.)

“You little brat! I don't know what you think you're doing here, but I actually needed to talk to you. Get your rear over to the Hau'oli City Beachfront!”

*****

The Pokémon battle ended just like other three times he tried fighting Tiluo; failure. Utter defeat. Guzma could feel his jaw clenching hard. Why can’t he win against him?

"Guzma! What is wrong with you?! This outcome hasn't changed at all either!" he grits out, one hand gripping at his hair in frustration. His grip tightens when he hears someone clapping.

“Well played, Tiluo!” It’s Hala. Of course it’s him, why would it be anyone else?

“You came all the way here just to watch me lose, huh? Must be nice to be a lazy old island kahuna with nothing better to do...”

“What a high opinion of yourself you have. Ha! I just happened to see Tiluo here, so I thought I would come over,” the old man says as he approaches the two of them.

Guzma scowls at Hala, remembering just how much he doesn’t like this guy.

“You wanna get beat down, old man?”

Hala sighs heavily.

“Oh, Guzma... When will you understand? Only when you respect your opponent's skill will it bring out the best in you. You miss the true meaning of battling. The goal is not to beat your opponent down, but for both Trainers to grow stronger!”

“I don't care what you say to me, yo. Beating people down is all I know!”

“But the battle I just saw seemed a bit different. While you may say you're only interested in crushing your opponent, I sensed a desire to defeat Tiluo deep in your heart.”

Ugh, he’s so _sick_ of this guy with his wise old man shtick.

“What do you know, old man?!”

“If you continue on this path, you'll never be able to defeat Tiluo! Guzma, admit the worthiness of your opponents! Only then can you become even stronger than you already are! Allow yourself to know the people and Pokémon you encounter, and look deeply into your heart.”

“You're still trying to front like you're my master, huh? I gave up on you a long time ago.”

“Tiluo, allow me to handle this foolish young man. I will make a fine Trainer out of him yet, or I'm not an island kahuna! I hope that can be considered penance for the wrongs he and Team Skull have committed.”

“Tch!” Of course Hala wasn’t going to listen to him. Once the old man gets an idea in his head nothing can dissuade him from it. Guzma can’t believe he used to want this guy’s respect so badly that he’d have done anything for it. A small part of him, he suddenly realizes, still wants his respect.

“Oh ho ho! The two of us will go many places together! And we will meet more people and Pokémon who will enrich our lives. Be ready tomorrow morning, training begins when the sun rises,” Hala calls over his shoulder as he leaves, heading back towards Iki Town.

“Master...” and suddenly he feels like that star struck 12 year old again who was excited that the Kahuna had chosen him among a small handful of others to train personally to maybe someday become a captain. 

Remembering that he’s not alone on the beach, he turns away, embarrassed.

“I ain't never gonna ask you to forgive me, so don't get it twisted—this is no apology! But shut up and take this! I got it for my first ever victory, and it's always been like my lucky charm!” Guzma starts digging in his pocket and holds out the Dawn Stone in Tiluo’s direction. “Who knows what the Alolan winds will bring? Next time we meet, I'm counting on you to test how strong I've gotten.”

Guzma leaves before Tiluo can say anything.

*****

After battling Tiluo and seeing Hala again, it dawns on Guzma that this is probably another way to start fresh. Returning home was just the start. He’s gotta really commit to it if he wants results, if he actually wants to change and get stronger, if he wants to be able to surpass Tiluo. 

The realization catches him so off-guard he actually stops dead in his tracks on his way home from the beach. 

*****

He’s up before the sun rises and heads over to Iki Town. It’s been years, but he remembers how serious Hala is about training.

On Hau’oli’s outskirts, on Route 1, he notices the large house not too far away from the beach and Kukui’s lab. Guzma remembers when that house had been nothing more than a frame and materials lying about. He shouldn’t be too surprised to see the place finished (and by the looks of it, inhabited), he hasn’t set foot on Melemele in four years of course things were going to have changed. Still, it’s strange to look at and he can’t help but wonder who lives there now.

Guzma manages to tear his eyes from staring at the house and starts climbing up the steep hill to Iki Town.

*****

Hala’s training is tougher than he remembers, since most days end with him feeling sore, tired, and barely able to move, though he’s doing much better than the two ex-Team Skull members who are being trained by Hau and Hala.

(He remembers them. One ran away from home, all the way from Johto. The other had been a petty criminal; pickpocketing, spraying tags, the works, and gotten kicked out by his parents.)

Hala had always been of the mindset that you can’t expect your Pokémon to be strong if you yourself weren’t.

Of course, training also included going to the other islands and battling other trainers, but sometimes they didn’t even really do anything. “It’s important to relax sometimes,” Hala said. “You can’t get stronger if you don’t also give yourself some time to rest!”

Things continue in this way for about a year; training until he can barely hold himself up, kinda missing Plumeria, and he’s still getting letters from Lillie. He’s seen Gladion maybe once or twice. They don’t really talk, but that’s mostly because Gladion is looking for Tiluo about something or other for Aether things. Projects he’d like to get the Champion’s opinion on.

Speaking of the brat, he hasn’t seen him the entire time, not since their last battle on the beach last year. He’d think the kid dropped off the face of the earth, but Hau’s mentioned something about Ultra Beasts and after that Guzma didn’t want to know.

He’s had more than his fair share of Ultra Beasts and wants nothing more to do with them.

He just hopes Tiluo hasn’t developed an obsession with them like Lusamine had.

*****

Another year goes by much as the previous had.

Training, missing his best friend who didn’t want anything to do with him, getting letters from Kanto, talking to Gladion a few times, and his relationship with his parents improves a bit, but it’s still strained. Well, things are better with his ma since his old man still refuses to even look at him.

Guzma does run into a few other ex-Team Skull grunts from time to time. Most of them seem to be at least trying to start new, like him. But there are others who are bitter and resent that he disbanded the gang.

He can’t really blame them for being upset about it, but he doesn’t take their bad attitude, reminds them exactly _why_ he had been the big bad boss.

The knots in his stomach always tighten unpleasantly after those encounters.

*****

He’d almost forgotten about them, those _damn_ golf clubs, until his ma had asked him to clear out the garage while she was out.

His old man’s damn golf clubs were front and center when he pulled the garage door open.

Guzma saw red once he realized what he was looking at.

With jerky movements and trembling arms he grabbed the golf bag and dragged it over to the large, jagged rock in the corner of the yard. One by one he started slamming the bent and twisted golf clubs against the rock until they broke, the only sounds ringing in his ears was the chittering of Caterpies, metal hitting rock repeatedly, and his own labored breathing. By the time he was done he was sweating and his lungs were stuttering with the ragged breaths he was taking.

“You know, I’d always been suspicious of why those clubs were messed up, but I think now I know why.”

He practically jumps out of his skin and nearly cracks his neck with how fast his head whips around to see Tiluo standing there, apparently having seen most, if not all, of what just happened. Because of course this would be when Tiluo decides to show up again after being essentially AWOL for the past two years.

Guzma lets out a bark of laughter at how absurd this is, how this brat just found out about one of his biggest secrets, maybe not even fully realizing what it is, before sinking down onto his haunches and burying his face in his hands.

He hears more than sees Tiluo crouch down next to him.

“What d’ya want, brat?” There’s no bite to it, not really. Guzma’s too tired from the sudden surge of rage.

“Well, since I don’t have to track down Ultra Beasts anymore and things have calmed down at the Pokémon League, I was wondering if you wanted to go surfing with me.”

He shoots Tiluo a confused look. “Let me get this straight, you take on criminal organizations, basically bend over backwards to get into an alternate dimension to rescue two idiots from themselves, become the first Champion of Alola, and you want to do something as boring as surfing?”

“I don’t know about that. You get kinda used to all the danger pretty quickly. Surfing seems pretty exciting compared to all that.”

He bursts into laughter now, laughing hard enough to be bordering on tears. The kid has apparently spent the last two years chasing after Ultra Beasts of all things, still cleaning up after his and Lusamine’s mess, and also keeping an iron grip on his title as Champion, and the first thing he wants to do when he has free time is to go surfing with someone who loses their marbles over seeing golf clubs.

The laughter dying down to just snickering, he gets up and heads over to the garage, pulling the door down to close it. After seeing the golf clubs he knows he’s not going to finish clearing out the garage today. “Sure, why the fuck not.”

*****

Guzma isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about Lusamine. It was one of the many things he hasn’t fully dealt with.

Sure, she hadn’t betrayed him necessarily, but it still stung that he’d been used and then brushed aside once he was no longer useful by the one adult he had trusted after he ran away from home. But honestly, he probably should’ve seen the warning signs, the red flags. Instead he just blindly trusted her, did the dirty work that the Aether Foundation couldn’t be caught doing.

Well, if there’s a prize for rotten judgement, he’s won it.

Because Lusamine had apparently been just as bad to her own kids as his own old man had been to him. Maybe not in the same ways, but both had been cruel to their own kids so it was close enough.

“What’s with the long face?” Tiluo asks, his face coming in to view above Guzma from where he’s sprawled out on the room’s wooden floor.

The brat has taken to hanging around him lately and he couldn’t figure out why. Ever since the incident with the golf clubs and subsequent surfing that had lasted most of the day he’d just show up out of the blue and start talking about everything and nothing, whether or not Guzma actually said anything didn’t seem to deter him at all.

The kid was the Champion of Alola and here he was hanging around Guzma, former leader of Team Skull and criminal. Honestly he’s beginning to think the kid is nuts or something.

He swats at Tiluo’s prodding fingers, scowling as he finally says something to the kid.

“There’s gotta be a better use for your time than comin’ to hang around here all the time.”

Tiluo just raises an eyebrow and responds with “I could say the same about you.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Guzma asks with narrowed eyes. Tiluo shrugs before going back to prodding at the older teen’s face before his hand is swatted at again.

“It means what it means. Sure, you go and train and stuff with Hala and Hau, and you talk sometimes with Gladion, and you keep every letter Lillie has sent even though you never write back, but you’re not…” Tiluo pauses for a moment, brows furrowed and his mouth drawn into a hard line as he’s obviously thinking of how to say what he wants to say. “You’re like a ghost. You’re here and doing the bare minimum of interacting with others, but if given the chance you withdraw and basically just haunt this place. I’m worried about you. We’re all worried about you.”

Guzma snorts. “Wow, gettin’ an intervention from a 10 year old. How the mighty have fallen.”

The kid rolls his eyes and lifts himself up onto his feet and looks down at Guzma. “Nice try at trying to derail my genuine worry and sentiment, you jerk. And I’m 14, you’ve clearly missed a couple of birthdays. Now get up.”

“Nah, no thanks. I’m doing just fine layin’ here.”

Tiluo huffs and grabs onto his legs and starts dragging him out of his room. Well, trying to anyway.

“Ugh, you’re so heavy. This would be a lot easier if you’d get up.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“Oh my, aren’t you two lively?”

They both look in the direction of the kitchen to see Guzma’s mom smiling at them, laughter and mirth in her eyes. Tiluo looks like a Magikarp out of water with how his mouth opens and closes and his eyes are wide with embarrassment. 

“Oh, uh… You must be Guzma’s mom. I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier, ma’am,” Tiluo manages to get out, tongue tripping over itself. Guzma can’t help but snicker, even when the kid shoots him a glare.

“Yes I am, and please, call me Puanani. None of that _‘ma’am’_ business, it makes me feel older than I am.”

The kid nods and drops one of Guzma’s legs to hold out a hand to Puanani, which she accepts with a smile and a firm shake.

“I’m Tiluo, a friend of Guzma’s.”

Guzma is about to protest, because no way are they friends, if anything they’re rivals. Well, one-sided rivals, but still. However, Puanani continues talking before her son can speak.

“Good to meet you Tiluo. If you two are heading out, could you do me a favor and keep my son out of trouble? He’s always been a magnet for trouble.” She tells him, but there’s a twinkle in her eye and a secretive smile on her face.

*****

“You keep eating those and your teeth are gonna rot out,” Guzma tells Tiluo as the brat starts eating another malasada. Tiluo lightly punches Guzma’s arm before taking another bite out of the treat. They’re sitting on the concrete stairs that led down to Hau’oli City’s beachfront, letting the sea breeze wash over them.

“They probably will if you don’t help me finish these.”

With a very put upon sigh, Guzma reaches into the paper take-out bag and grabs one. For as much as he pretends, he really does like the darn things.

Not long after all the malasadas are gone, Tiluo drags Guzma into one of the tourist trap shops.

“I never had a chance to really explore Hau’oli,” Tiluo offers as an explanation. “I was pretty much busy right from the get go with unpacking and then setting off on the island challenge.”

Guzma hums in response as they look through the shop’s merchandise. It’s mostly plastic recreations of Melemele’s totems and a lot of gaudy tropical shirts, though the postcards catch his eye. He must’ve been looking at them a long time or something because next thing he knows Tiluo is next to him and looking through the different types of postcards.

“Which one do you like best?” the brat asks him. “Personally, I like the one with the Wingulls and the hibiscus.”

Without really thinking about it, Guzma taps the one with Pa’u Oricorio and Blue Jade Vine flowers.

“Good choice,” he says as he plucks both postcards from the rotating rack and takes them over the cashier. He doesn’t say anything when he comes back over to Guzma, just nods to the exit and leaves. Guzma follows after.

They end up on Hau’oli’s beachfront again, though instead of sitting on the stairs, Tiluo sits down by the shoreline and holds out a pen and the postcard Guzma had picked out when he sits next to him. Once Guzma takes the items, Tiluo starts writing on his own postcard.

“So why’d you buy these?”

“I thought it’d be nice to send something to Lillie for a change.”

Guzma’s brows furrow slightly at the answer.

“Don’t you write back to her?”

“About as often as you do.”

“I thought you two were friends.”

“We are. I just never had the time to write until now.”

Guzma looks down at the postcard and pen in his hands. Should he write to her? He’s never really been good with words and he feels like if he was gonna do the polite thing and write back he should’ve done that about two and a half years ago when the letters started coming in.

Instead of saying any of this though he just says, “I don’t even know what to say to her.”

Tiluo smiles, but doesn’t look up from whatever it is he’s writing. “Anything, really. You could tell her about what you’ve been up to since she left, or even just say hello and ask how she’s been. It doesn’t really matter so long as you say something.”

It falls quiet between them, the only sounds being pen against cardstock and the waves lapping against the shore.

Guzma keeps what he writes short.
    
    
    What’s Kanto like?
    
    
    -- Guzma

The postcards are dropped in the nearest mailbox before the sun sets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, life has been very busy for me these past few months. So here's a little something, it's not as long of a chapter as I would've liked to post, but I don't know how soon I'll be able to write/post again. Hopefully it won't take as long as it did this time.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience!

His old man is still upset about Guzma breaking the old busted up golf clubs.

He won’t say anything directly to Guzma about it – he still refuses to even look at him, which is fine by Guzma, because he doesn’t want to look at him either – but the fact that he’s got the fucking _nerve_ to be offended about it is what gets under Guzma’s skin. His old man is just doing it to get a rise out of him, he knows this, but it still bugs the hell out of him.

He’d give something for his old man to _actually_ be upset about, but he doesn’t wanna upset his ma and the guy hasn’t even said or done anything. 

Yet. 

It’s only a matter of time, really.

So yeah, his old man acting like this upsets him is getting on Guzma’s nerves. He knows his old man isn’t really all that beat up about it, he’s only doing this because he knows that Guzma has a short temper like him. Knows that if he pushes enough Guzma will snap.

Guzma hates it, hates this, hates him, hates himself. Mostly he hates how similar he and his old man are. Not just in personality, but also in appearance. Guzma resembles his old man in his younger days; tall, willowy, and they both have that Kalos look (long face, aquiline nose, and a strong jawline).

The only parts of him that even vaguely resemble his ma are his natural hair color and gray eyes. It’s a small mercy that every time he looks at his reflection it’s not his father’s eyes looking back at him.

Guzma would probably smash every mirror he came across if it was his old man’s eyes looking back at him in every reflection.

He idly wonders if Gladion ever has trouble looking at his own reflection too. The guy resembles Lusamine, more than Lillie does anyhow. They’ve both got those sharp eyes and cold scowls. 

Guzma would probably laugh about the fact he and Gladion both pretty much look like they could be clones of the people who really screwed them up but he’d probably end up crying instead.

Besides, Gladion probably wouldn’t want sympathy or pity. They’re both messed up, but Gladion at least has a handle on his shit unlike Guzma. Or maybe he’s just better at hiding it. Maybe he lays awake some nights trying not to fly to pieces too.

Anyway, he’s getting off track here.

Guzma snaps himself out of his wandering thoughts, finally coming back to the present, to the table where his ma and his old man are sitting eating dinner as well. He’s been sitting there just kinda pushing his food around while absently participating in what his ma is talking about.

Something about meeting up with Kainalu – Hau’s mom, Guzma remembers. He met her once or twice before he ran away from home – and someone named Leimomi to plan a party for a guy named Kekoa.

He asks who she’s talking about.

“Oh, Leimomi and Kekoa are some old friends. They moved away years ago, but Leimomi came back a couple years ago and Kekoa is going to return soon too. You were probably too young to remember them, so it’s alright if you don’t.”

After that his ma continues talking about the party plans and Guzma is grateful for it, that she doesn’t expect him to talk when he obviously doesn’t want to.

*****

Sitting on Hau’oli’s beach writing postcards has become a habit for him and the brat.

Guzma couldn’t honestly tell you how it turned into a “thing” that they do, but that’s mostly because he doesn’t understand why anyone would willingly spend time with him. It’s an old hang up, that Guzma does know and understand. An old hang up from when his old man used to push him too far for really stupid things, like not coming in first for everything, for not naturally excelling at every little task.

He remembers how the pressure from the stress of it all would build up and up with no way deal with it properly. Not really anyway. Guzma thinks back to the early days of the strict training and rules his old man had set for him, the brutal pace he had been expected to keep up from a very young age that lasted through most of the childhood he spent in his parents’ house before running away.

Sometimes it got to be too much and he’d end up with difficulty breathing when the old man was in a particularly nasty mood. It wasn’t until he had met Plumeria that he learned that those were panic attacks caused by anxiety; before then he had assumed it was proof that he was too weak, too lacking in some way.

The thought of all of that, the memory of it, sours his mood, pulling his mouth into a frown as he stares out at the horizon.

“You’re getting lost in your thoughts again,” Tiluo says quietly from he’s still writing away on his postcard.

Guzma grunts in answer, not really wanting to talk about it. The brat may have a vague understanding of it, of what the golf clubs were, what they represented to Guzma, but he ain’t gonna talk about it.

The kid says nothing more, obviously waiting for Guzma to actually speak, but he’s stubborn and refuses to.

Of course, Tiluo is stubborn too; he knows this, what else could’ve motivated the brat to find a way into Ultra Space to save his sorry ass? Right now is just a matter of who can out stubborn who.

And of course, it’s Tiluo who wins this match of stubbornness.

 _“Why wouldn’t he? He wins everything else,”_ Guzma thinks to himself, though he’s surprisingly not bitter about it.

“It’s… I’m just thinking about the past too much,” he admits, barely above a whisper and it’s so quiet that he’s surprised that the waves didn’t drown it out completely.

The kid hums in response, an invitation to continue speaking. After that the words just start tumbling out of Guzma’s mouth.

“My ma used to work a lot, so I was left alone with the old man more often than not. He was the one who got me started in competitions when I was younger. He used to be a strong competitor in Kalos, but then he met my ma and stayed here. Competitions didn’t really become a thing here until a few years after I was born and by then he was too out of practice to compete himself, but he got it into his head somehow that I was into competing too. I think he was just tryna recapture his youth. I was only into it because I thought it was something we could do to together,” he rests chin in his hand, mouth pressed slightly against the palm, as he says all of this, still staring out at the ocean. “About a year into it he changed for the worst and it wasn’t fun anymore. Ma never knew how bad it could get, how bad it _did_ get. The old man kept her in the dark about it and I was always too scared to say anything.”

They sit in silence for minutes that seem to drag on for eternity and his palms begin to sweat; he’s never admitted it aloud, never admitted it to anyone, not even Plumeria and she had been his best friend. But somehow, admitting it to Tiluo is easy. It’s kinda scary how easy it is to just admit to the kid all of the things Guzma would rather not acknowledge at all.

It seems like saying it out loud has broken down some sort of dam and he can feel that same stressful pressure well up inside of his chest, along with rage towards his father.

Tiluo stands up, brushing sand off of his legs and tilts his head towards the stairs that lead up to the main drag of the city.

“C’mon, you look like you need to blow off some steam and I’ve got an idea.”

His brow furrow in confusion but he follows the kid nevertheless.

They end up on the ferry to Poni Island.

*****

Tiluo’s idea was to take him to the Battle Tree.

Guzma’s heard of the place but has never been until now.

But now that he’s here he knows he’ll be coming back here often. Where else can he really test his and his Pokémon’s strength?

(He knows he can always challenge the new League, but he also knows what the end result will be every time.)

“Your first single battle starts in two minutes so choose your team,” the kid tells him when he returns from wherever he had wandered off to. Apparently he’d gone and signed Guzma up.

“Single battle, huh? I thought you would’ve signed us up for multi battles to keep an eye on me,” he says with a sarcastic tone as he does as the kid says and starts choosing three of his Pokémon.

Tiluo rolls his eyes at him, but there’s a smile on his face.

“You don’t need a babysitter. Besides, I think this will go a lot better if it’s one-v-one.”

Guzma frowns as he picks out his third team member.

 _“What_ will go better?”

“You’ll see,” Tiluo says and yeah no, there’s no way Guzma trusts that the kid isn’t up to something.

He opens his mouth to say something in return, but he’s interrupted by his name being called by the organizer, so instead he settles for narrowing his eyes at the kid who’s grinning at him while he wishes Guzma good luck.

The first few battles he wins easily and he’s almost forgotten that the kid is up to something until he makes it to his fifth round.

On the other side of the arena is Plumeria. There’s fire in her eyes, the same that he always enjoyed seeing when it was directed at someone else because it meant someone was about to get beat down and he’d get a front row seat to it.

He finds that he doesn’t like it when that fiery anger is directed at him. 

Then again, to be fair, he probably deserves it. Just a little bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Alola is based off of Hawaii and that [haka](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haka) is Māori, but I personally like the idea that the different islands of Alola have different cultures, or at least varying cultures. For example, I like to think that Melemele and Poni have strong Māori influences in their culture.
> 
> To go further into it, we don't really have a lot of information on the indigenous cultures (or at least I don't remember there being any info in game) of Alola, so I'm assuming the peoples of the different islands named themselves after their respective Tapu. Ex) Hala is Alolan, but he's from Melemele and their Tapu is Tapu Koko, so he's Koko Alolan. Or like Acerola who is also a native Alolan and since she's from Ula'ula she's Bulu Alolan.
> 
> So for reference, Guzma is Kalosian/Koko Alolan, Plumeria is Johto/Bulu Alolan
> 
> I hope I'm making sense because explaining things and just words in general have always been difficult for me.

Things went south pretty damn quickly.

They hadn’t even come close to finishing their battle before it devolved into a shouting match and they were both ejected from the arena.

Plumeria glares at him before she storms off and it leaves Guzma feeling kind of sick, because she still hates him and he’s not really sure what he should do about, _if_ there's anything he can do about it. 

Apologize probably, the next time he sees her. 

If he sees her again.

He’s still standing at the Battle Tree entrance, staring at the bend in the dirt path where Plumeria had eventually disappeared from view at, when Tiluo shows up, guilt marring his face something terrible.

“I made things worse, didn’t I?” the brat asks so quietly that Guzma isn’t completely sure he even said anything.

Honestly? Yeah, the kid kinda dropped the ball on this one (it was a stupid idea, but then again Tiluo’s 15 – _barely,_ his birthday having been about a week ago – and all 15 year olds do stupid shit. Hell, Guzma remembers doing even dumber stuff when he was 15. At least the kid had good intentions for his dumbass idea), but Guzma can see the kid already beating himself up about this and well – they both don’t need to feel like shit over this.

But lying will only make Tiluo feel even worse (the kid somehow knows his tells and it gets kind of frustrating sometimes being read like an open book).

“Probably,” Guzma shrugs as he jams his hands into his pockets. “But it’s not like you were the only one making a mess out of this; think we did a good enough job of that ourselves.”

The kid still looks like someone kicked a Rockruff and Guzma sighs as he ruffles Tiluo’s hair, causing the brat to squawk indignantly.

“C’mon brat, let’s go surf.”

*****

Guzma was always a little surprised that his old man had ever allowed him to learn how to surf; it was the only thing from his ma’s culture that his old man never threw a fit about him learning (then again, his old man has always been a master at hiding his flaws from Guzma’s ma, so it probably would’ve been a little suspicious if he said no to everything). Probably because it was wide spread enough, from Alola to Unova to Hoenn.

Wait, no scratch that; there was also haka. 

(And also the fact that Guzma was always more fluent with Alolan than Kaloçais.)

His old man was always kinda upset about that but haka has always been a big thing on Melemele and always taught young to everyone (just _try_ getting a group of kids to play soccer or something without doing haka first; they’ll look at you like you’re nuts).

So it comes as a surprise to him when Tiluo admits that he’s never learned how to do it.

Of course the kid mostly grew up in Kanto so it really shouldn’t surprise him that much.

“So you really never learned it?” he asks as they sit on their surf boards, watching idly as other surfers take their turns on the waves. 

The kid shrugs and pats his Primarina when she surfaces.

“Celadon City didn’t really have much of an Alolan community. It was pretty much just us and a few college students who were studying abroad. Maybe if we lived in Hoenn or Unova I might’ve been able to.” Tiluo watches the other surfers, but he’s not really watching, obviously lost in thought. “I know mom and dad tried their best to teach me this stuff but they were always really busy with work and there was never enough time in the day… I dunno. It just feels kind of weird I guess is the best way I can put it.”

“Like looking through a window and knowing you’re supposed to be on the other side with everyone else?”

“Yeah. How did you…” The brat looks at him with surprise which causes Guzma to snort.

“Believe me kid, you’re not the only one who grew up practically a stranger to their own culture.”

Tiluo really isn’t. There’s Guzma and Plumeria too, although in their cases it wasn’t that there wasn’t time. 

No, for them they weren’t _allowed_ to learn.

In Guzma’s case it was because of his old man’s weird hang ups that Guzma thinks he'll never understand (not that he wants to) and as for Plumeria… well, her granny had always hated Plumeria’s mom who had run back to Johto and after that always treated Plumeria like an outsider. Unwanted and unneeded.

 _“I shoulda left you out in the Haina,”_ her granny had said the one time Guzma had gone with Plumeria to gather the last of her things from her granny’s trailer. He grimaces just thinking about that encounter and there’s a sick twisting in his stomach when he remembers that Plumeria had to go back there after Team Skull was disbanded. 

There had been nowhere else for her to go, just like there was nowhere else for him to go either, except back to the home he thought he had left behind for good.

A sense of claustrophobic dread creeps over him despite being outside.

*****

Guzma bolts upright in bed, breathing heavily as sweat runs down the side of his face.

Another dream – another _nightmare_ – about his time in Ultra Space, this time featuring bent and twisted golf clubs.

He curses at his shaking hands and gets out of bed, grabbing his phone and Golisopod’s pokéball and jamming his feet into his shoes, forgoing socks, as he heads for the door. Guzma pauses before leaving, turning back to his desk, deciding to bring Lillie’s most recent letter from Kanto.

Once he’s out on the porch, he’s not really sure where to go; just that he needs to be away. Maybe he should go down to the beachfront? 

_No, wouldn’t be the same without the brat,_ he thinks with a scowl. For a brief moment he entertains the idea of texting Tiluo before pulling at his hair as if to scold himself. It’s barely 2am, the kid’s probably sleeping and he puts up with Guzma’s baggage enough as it is.

Carefully he makes his way down the porch’s creaking steps and just starts walking.

He’ll figure something out, some way to deal with still shaking hands and too fast heartbeat and the vague fear thrumming away behind his eyes.

Guzma doesn’t pay attention to where he’s walking to, too busy thinking about getting his act together, how to stand on his own two feet, how to stop the claustrophobic feeling that seems to have carved a home in his chest, and most importantly, how to apologize to Plumeria.

He snorts at himself. A few years ago he wouldn’t have even thought of apologizing to anyone.

The sound of the waterfall draws him from his thoughts and he finds that his feet have taken him all the way to the Mahalo Trail. Guzma’s brow furrows in confusion at this unconscious choice; he hasn’t gone to the Tapu in years and never by himself when he did, but for whatever reason he can’t bring himself to turn around.

So he continues, over the bridge and up the rocky path to the Ruins of Conflict.

There’s the totems at the entrance, older than anyone can remember but always a constant, with little to no moss on them, having been recently cleaned by someone from Iki Town. 

Guzma passes the entrance totems and into the Ruins and pauses briefly to study the antechamber walkway. It’s filled with vegetation, mostly Naupaka and Pikake flowers, and vines that sprawl all along the stone walls and the trees that support the structure and their leaves that make the ceiling.

The place still looks impossibly large, high ceilings and everything, but it also seems smaller than it did when he was a kid.

Guzma closes his eyes and inhales deeply, the aroma of the flowers is strong, but not the cloying scent from his memories.

As a child this place had terrified him, the electricity in the air and the soul-piercing blue eyes that had stared at him without blinking had made it hard for him to like this place. 

Now though the Ruins are a balm against the brewing storm in his mind. Here he feels like he’s thinking clearly for the first time in too long.

When he finally opens his eyes he sees the Rooster mask-like shell waiting for him in the altar room.

Without a second thought he goes to it, crossing the threshold into the altar proper and lets Golisopod out of his pokéball.

The electricity in the air crackles, signifying the Tapu’s delight at the impending battle.

*****

Guzma loses.

Of course he does, he went into the battle already knowing that he was no match for the Tapu, but that doesn’t mean he and Golisopod didn’t do their damnedest to win despite the odds.

When it’s over and Golisopod is returned to his ball to rest, Tapu Koko is still staring at Guzma, as if it is waiting for something.

“Don’t get your hopes up, he’s the only one I brought with me,” he tells the Tapu. It just cocks its head and continues to bounce from side to side like how a fighter bounces on the balls of their feet.

Guzma eyes the Tapu warily as it approaches him.

It stops in front of him, still staring, and then jabs him on the forehead and on his chest over his heart. He hisses in pain, not knowing if the Tapu intended to use so much force behind the jabs or not, and then the Tapu is gone, as if it had never been there at all. The crinkling of paper in his pocket draws his attention. Lillie’s letter; he’d forgotten he’d even brought it with him.

In it she’d talked about Kanto again and about how her mother’s recovery is coming along. She’d also asked if he’d like to visit them since she didn’t know how long it would be until they returned to Alola.

Rubbing at his forehead he takes one last look at the altar before leaving.

Guzma looks at the stars once he steps out into the still cold night.

Maybe he should go to Kanto, get out of Alola for a while, because after the time spent in the Ruins, the time spent battling the Tapu, it’s clear to him that staying in Alola right now isn’t doing anything good for him. Or for Plumeria now that he thinks about it.

He doesn’t regret disbanding Team Skull, doesn’t regret returning home because he’s managed to reconnect with his ma. What he does regret, is that it left both him and Plumeria floundering, left the both of them going back to sharing space with the people who hurt them for years.

The stars are shining as he makes his way back down the rocky path, back to his parents’ house, his mind clear and calm for the first time in years.

*****

Guzma knocks on the trailer’s door just after the sun has risen, a bag of clothes and a few belongings and his team stowed inside.

Plumeria opens the door and glares at him, but says nothing, waiting instead for him to speak.

He clears his throat, suddenly nervous that she might just slam the door in his face. It’d hurt, but it wouldn’t change his plans.

“Wanna get out of here and go to Kanto?”

It had taken him battling against a Tapu to finally realize that what Plumeria wanted and needed in an apology weren't words like "I'm sorry", but actions to prove that he really was remorseful.

The intensity of her glare lessens and she nods. She’s still angry with him and he’s fine with that; she’s allowed to be angry since he essentially abandoned her.

Guzma waits outside for her to gather her things. He can’t bear to go in there because it likely hasn’t changed at all from the one and only time he’d seen the inside of it; stale and musty, the blinds always drawn so as to give it a bleak and depressing light, piles of accumulated junk strewn about. He hates himself a little for forcing her to return here, even if he did it unintentionally.

It doesn’t take long for Plumeria to reappear, her own bag slung over her shoulder.

“Lead the way,” she says and with that they’re headed off to the pier.

*****

It’s only after the ferry has left port and he and Plumeria are sitting on one of the deck’s benches that Guzma realizes he didn’t tell the kid where he was going or even that he was leaving.

He’d left a note for his ma and one for Hala – hell, he’d even dropped a letter to Lille letting her know that he’d be coming to Kanto into the mailbox by the malasada shop in Hau’oli before taking the ferry to Ula’ula – but he hadn’t thought to leave one for the kid.

Looking back at the shrinking islands, he feels bad for just up and leaving like this, but he knows that if he hadn’t left when he did then he might not have left at all.

Besides, it’s not like he’ll be gone forever and he can always just send a postcard to Tiluo when they get to Kanto.

Guzma looks away from Alola and out towards the endless expanse of the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was tempted to title this chapter "Local God Gives Young Man the Most Vague Life Advice Possible"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried posting this chapter multiple times yesterday but I guess AO3 was doing maintenance or something, because the site kept eating the chapter and not updating. And because of that, this chapter is essentially going up with little to no editing because I usually go through and edit when I copy and paste from the Word document, but I just want to get this posted so it's going up as is. I'll edit this chapter later.
> 
> Here's chapter 4 (finally).

Despite how much he’s learned about Kanto through letters from Lillie and things Tiluo said in passing, none of it prepared him for how cold the place is.

Well, cold compared to Alola.

It’s the height of summer and he’s shivering, which is a damn crime.

“It’s not that cold,” Plumeria says with a roll of her eyes, but there’s a telltale chatter from her teeth which makes him snort at her, earning him an elbow to his ribs. “So where’re we going?”

“Cerulean City. It’s north, I think,” Guzma tells her as he leads them through the crowded docks of Vermilion City. He kinda wishes he had more to go on than that, maybe should’ve grabbed one of those tourist maps from the ship, but he didn’t. Just took a brief glance at it knowing that they had to pass through Saffron to get to Cerulean.

She shoots him an unimpressed look, but says nothing. At least until they’ve passed the city limits and are headed towards Saffron.

“I’m surprised that your phone hasn’t been going off like crazy.”

Guzma shrugs. “I’ve had it turned off since yesterday. ‘Sides, I left notes tellin’ them where I was going. I figure that’ll buy me some time.”

Plumeria hums in response.

“What about you?”

This time it’s her who shrugs when she answers. “Acerola and Tiluo probably don’t know that I’m gone yet. There’s a couple people from the Battle Tree who might wonder where I am, but it’s not like we’re close.”

They lapse into silence after that, but it’s not awkward. More like the comfortable silence they used to share back when Team Skull was still active. Guzma smothers the smile tugging at his mouth because when did he become such a fucking sap?

*****

“Mr. Guzma! Miss Plumeria!”

Guzma and Plumeria are nearly knocked over by Lillie when she barrels into them, wrapping her arms around the both of them tightly.

“I’m so glad you both came to visit,” she says with a genuinely bright smile.

Guzma is too stunned and too tired to do more than lightly pat her shoulder. He and Plumeria and just spent the better part of an hour walking around Cerulean asking in stilted Johto-ben where this guy Bill lived.

“Good to see you too kid. Did you get taller?” he manages to say once Lillie releases them from her death grip of a hug.

Lille seems to take that as the go-ahead to start talking a mile a minute as she starts leading them into the house; he doesn’t understand most of what Lillie’s talking about (Plumeria doesn’t either since her eyes have gone a little wide the way they do sometimes) but what he manages to gather from it is that she’s really enthusiastic about the work she’s been doing with this Bill guy.

It feels weird to hear a 14 year old to throw around words and phrases like _“magnetic-activated cell sorting”_ or _“antigens,”_ but if it makes her happy then it makes her happy.

*****

After Lillie shows them around Bill’s house she leads Guzma to a room towards the back right of the house that looks out over the Cerulean River.

Plumeria isn’t with them, deciding instead to go pass out in one of the many guest rooms.

(“You were closer to the president than I was, so you do you,” she had said after clapping him on the shoulder.)

Lillie reaches for the door handle but stops short, hesitating, and looks him dead in the eye.

“Mother has made a lot of progress but…” Lillie trails off for a moment, “She’s better than she was after the… _‘incident’_ however she’s not always lucid.”

Guzma nods in understanding. He’d honestly be surprised if Lusamine wasn’t kinda messed up after their stint in Ultra Space, especially since she fused with one of those… _things._

Hell, weird things had started happening to Lusamine even before she fused with the Ultra Beasts. It seemed like as soon as they set foot in that weird dimension the place had tried absorbing her if that made any sense.

At the time he hadn’t thought anything of it – probably because the atmosphere of the place messed with one’s sense of reality or whatever – but Lusamine had… _flickered_ once they had crossed the threshold, like she was one with Ultra Space’s unreality, like she had been a missing piece of the dimension’s incoherent puzzle.

“So if she says something weird or reacts oddly,” Lillie continues, snapping Guzma out of his thoughts, “Try not to take it to heart.”

She gives Guzma a reassuring smile and finally opens the door.

And there sits Lusamine, looking so small and quiet that Guzma almost doesn’t believe that it’s really her.

Lusamine looks right at him, but there’s no recognition in her eyes, just dull, unfocused green irises constantly contracting and relaxing and it makes him think of when a camera is trying to bring an image into focus but can’t.

“Mother,” Lillie says softly as she approaches the large bed, “Mr. Guzma has come to see you.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the sound of Lillie’s voice or the use of his name but Lusamine seems to suddenly become aware enough to realize that there are people in the room with her.

Lusamine smiles softly at him and holds out a hand to him, and it takes him a moment to not tear up because he hasn’t seen her smile like that since he was a 15 year old gang leader of misfit kids. That smile was what made him trust her, because that smile said that she didn’t think he was worthless or incompetent, but rather that she understood what it was like to have a harsh and strict father and that she was more than willing to give Guzma the chance to prove himself.

Products of child abuse recognize other products of child abuse after all.

With a deep breath he reaches out and takes her hand, sitting down in one of the chairs by her bedside.

“Heya boss,” Guzma greets with a tight smile. “How’ve you been?”

*****

“How was she?” Plumeria asks when he finds her sitting on the bank of Cerulean’s river and small bay.

He opens his mouth to speak but then snaps it shut when no words come out. Hell, he’s not even sure what he would’ve said anyway.

Guzma sits down next to her and remains silent. Plumeria says nothing either, clearly waiting for him to speak. It’s a frustrating quality she shares with Tiluo; no matter how stubborn Guzma thinks he is those two always manage to out-stubborn him somehow. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t like the quiet too much, prefers noise and sound, and knuckles under more often than not to keep the silence from closing in on him.

“She was…” Guzma starts then rubs at his mouth, trying to make the words come out. “She seemed fine. Better. A little out of it. She doesn’t have bags under her eyes anymore.”

Plumeria hums and nods. They stare out over the Cerulean Bay, lapsing into silence once more.

“So are you going to tell him about it?” She asks him when she gets up and moves over to the shoreline, picking up flat stones along the way.

“Tell who?” He knows who she’s talking about.

She raises an eyebrow and gives him a look as she starts skipping stones, clearly unimpressed with his weak clueless act.

“You know who. He talked about you pretty often whenever I saw him at the Battle Tree or challenged him at the League. I figured you two were pretty close,” Plumeria says as she tries skipping a rock, but it looks more like she’s just throwing them into the waves seeing as how they don’t skim the water at all. “Y’know, helping each other get your shit together.”

Guzma snorts.

“Nah, if anything it was him putting up with my problems.”

“You sure about that? He always seemed kinda distant, like he was just one breeze short of just floating away, after he became the Champion. He started hanging out with you and he got less strung out and stressed. I think, if anything, he wasn’t just ‘putting up with you.’ You help keep him grounded. He’s the first League Champion of Alola and a kid on top of that. He’s got a lot of pressure on him and probably not a lot of people he can relax around.”

… Well fuck, now he feels even guiltier for leaving without saying anything.

Silence falls over them again as Guzma mulls over her words and lets them sink in. If Plumeria says something to be true then it is; she isn’t one for sugar coating anything or lying to make someone feel better.

Plumeria speaks up once she’s thrown her last stone.

“You should turn on your phone, let your mom and that old Kahuna know you’re still alive. Maybe even let the kid know you’re okay.”

“And what about you?”

She throws another look at him this time, but it’s more of _‘I’m actually somewhat responsible’_ than _‘you’re an idiot.’_

“I already called Acerola and Tiluo to let them know where we are, though I think he’d like to hear from you. Can’t possibly imagine why though,” she says with a dead pan, yet sarcastic tone.

*****

The days turn into weeks and they’re still in Kanto.

Bill and his wife are more than happy to let them stay.

“Lillie’s a good kid, really bright, but if you ask me I think she’s been pretty lonely for home,” Bill tells them one night out on the porch that faces Cerulean Bay. “She’s at that age where it’s important to have friends close by, but all her friends are in Alola and she hasn’t had too much free time to make new ones here.”

Bill takes a final drag from his cigarette before ashing it in the tray. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, thanks for coming all this way and feel free to stay as long as you like.”

After that the days kind of bleed together a bit.

He spends a few hours here and there with Lusamine. Plumeria occasionally joins him, but more often than not it’s just Guzma going to see their former boss. Most days she seems fine, if not a little out of it, but then there are some days…

Some days Lusamine is just completely vacant, like all the lights are off and no one’s home.

On days like those there’s a weird atmosphere in her room, almost as if she’s somehow pulled a bit of Ultra Space’s unreality through and she’s off somewhere in her own world with those Nihilego.

Every time she has one of those days he’s never able to stay long due to a strange ache that starts up at the base of his skull that develops into full out dizziness and nausea if he stays too long.

And it seems like he’s the only one who can sense that bit of unreality that Lusamine somehow manages to project, the only one who gets those weird headaches when she does, because no one else does.

He’d mentioned it to Lillie and Bill and the two had just looked at each other with something close to alarm and like he had somehow given them the answer to all their questions.

“Perhaps he’s able to sense it because he had been physically in another dimension?” Bill speculates.

“No, there’s more to it than that, otherwise I would’ve noticed this,” Lillie answers, and Guzma can practically see the wheels turning in her head until her eyes light up with a realization. “Guzma… when Tiluo and I arrived in Ultra Space to rescue you and mother, you told us that the one of the Nihilego attacked you, but you never specified. How exactly did it attack you?”

Guzma inhales sharply at the memory of it, of that place. “Uh… you remember how they merged with your mom? Well, the one that attacked me tried to do that, but I guess it didn’t take since it just screeched and zapped me when it tried.”

“But it did take, if even for only a second. Nihilego are parasitic creatures and the one that tried to merge with you linked its mind with yours, but either you were incompatible or it saw something in your memories it didn’t like,” Lillie tells him and yeah, Guzma really could’ve done without knowing that some sort of interdimensional monster was able to look through his memories like that.

“And because it was merged with him, even though it failed, it left a bit of itself in him, like with Lusamine. It left a connection in his mind, like a phone call that never got hung up.”

“Exactly!” Lillie exclaims and before long the two of them scurry back to Bill’s lab with their new information that was apparently the missing puzzle piece.

Guzma is left standing there, feeling like there’s a lead weight resting in his stomach and his hand going for his phone, but he stops himself, balls his hand into a fist with his nails biting into the flesh of his palm.

He wants to call Tiluo, but he doesn’t even know what he would say if he did.

It’s better if he doesn’t, if he just keeps his mouth shut for right now.

*****

He doesn’t send that postcard and he doesn’t call the kid.

Guzma should, he knows he really should, but the longer he goes without doing either of those the harder it is to actually do it.

Lillie knows something is up but she doesn’t say anything. 

No, it’s Plumeria who does.

“How long are you gonna keep this up for?” Plumeria asks as they walk down the dirt road towards Cerulean City for the day, to keep from being underfoot while Lillie and Bill keep working on their research. “I know you’re dying to talk to him.”

She’s been more insistent that he call Tiluo ever since Lillie had informed her about the fact that both he and Lusamine were still connected to Ultra Space because of those damn Nihilego.

His jaw clenches to keep from blurting out that he knows he’s being difficult, but it’s for a reason. 

A _good_ reason. 

Well, he hopes it’s a good reason.

“Can’t.” is his clipped answer.

Guzma can see Plumeria narrowing her eyes at him from his peripherals. Clearly he was too optimistic thinking she would leave it at that.

“Look,” Guzma begins, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I miss the little brat and I miss talking to him, I admit it, but I gotta learn how to deal with my own… _emotional issues_ by myself. It ain’t fair to either of us otherwise.”

They’ve stopped walking somewhere along the way and are now in some kind of standoff with the way Plumeria is studying his face.

With a sigh, it’s Plumeria who caves.

“Fine. I’ll quit bugging you about Tiluo,” she says as she starts walking again.

Guzma doesn’t immediately follow, a little stunned by the fact that she gave up that easy.

“Really?” he asks when he finally catches up to her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch, I respect your reasoning. Besides,” Plumeria responds too nonchalantly, before throwing a smirk at him, “I know you’ll talk to him eventually. You care too much.”

Guzma flicks her on the arm and Plumeria absolutely cackles at him, and while he’s slightly offended he lets it slide because it’s been forever since he’s heard his best friend laugh. 

Even if it is at his own expense.

*****

By the third stressed out groan coming from Lillie, Guzma finally looks up from the magazine he stole from Plumeria.

“What’s wrong, tadpole?”

She sends him a glare for the nickname, her cheeks puffing into a pout that resembles a Croagunk. Eventually she exhales heavily and drops her pen on top of the mess of papers strewn across the coffee table.

“Despite the new information you gave us, we’re still no closer to figuring out how to cut off the connection you and mother have to Ultra Space or even what would happen if we did. For all we know doing so could cause more harm than not,” Lillie explains, ruffling her hair in frustration. Apparently she’s picking up bad habits from him. “It’s stressing me out because I should be able to figure this out and I _can’t,_ but I can’t give up, I’ve come too far to quit now.”

Guzma sits up from his sprawl on the couch and taps the top of her head with the magazine.

“You need to relax. So you’ve hit a roadblock? Big deal, you already understand all this weird dimensional stuff better than Plumeria or I ever will. Hell, you probably even understand it better than Bill does. Just take a break and come back to it with fresh eyes; you’ll probably catch something you missed.”

“… You’re a lot nicer than you pretend to be,” Lillie tells him.

“Don’t go spreading that around, tadpole, I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

“I take it back, you’re terrible.”

*****

A sense of déjà vu comes over him as he lurches up from his bed due to a nightmare.

Drenched in sweat, hands shaking, something similar to fear and anger thrumming in his veins.

Much like last time, he grabs his phone and Golisopod’s pokéball, and is out the front door of Bill’s house within moments.

He doesn’t know where he’s going at this time of night, especially since there aren’t any Tapu around to fight to calm the storm in his mind. He feels lost, like when the needle on a compass just freaks out and starts spinning.

Before long the low rumble of the subway filters in and he realizes at some point he must’ve found his way into Cerulean City’s subway station and go ton. The fact that he doesn’t remember getting on does nothing to soothe his wild heartbeat.

Nausea builds up in his throat and getting on the subway, an enclosed space when he’s like this, was a bad idea. But it’s the fastest way to get where he’s going.

Where is he going?

“You okay there?”

Guzma cracks an eye open (when did he close them?) and a face swims into view, familiar features he can’t place, and he thinks he’s back in Alola for a moment when he sees the sea grey eyes that were all too common back home.

“Are you okay?” the Alolan man asks again as he presses the back of his hand to Guzma’s forehead. “You look feverish, but you don’t feel too warm.”

“’m fine,” Guzma answers even though he feels like he’s dying.

“If you’re fine then why are you passed out on the subway?” the man asks and raises an eyebrow at him and it’s so damn _familiar_ but Guzma can’t place it and it’s driving him nuts.

Guzma is too out of it to really care about sharing with a complete stranger so he tells him. “Bad memories, nightmare. Couldn’t stand being cooped up in my friend’s place so I guess I thought it was a good idea to coop myself up in the train.”

The man hums in acknowledgement and silence settles for a few moments before he speaks up again.

“I’m Kekoa,” the man introduces himself, holding a hand out.

“Guzma,” he returns, and shakes the man’s hand.

“Guzma, huh? You wouldn’t happen to be Puanani Mahi’ai’s son, would you?”

“Yes?”

“What a small world. I’m an old friend of your mother’s, my wife is too.”

“Who’s your wife? Leimomi, right?” Guzma finds himself asking. He’s not sure if he’s all that invested in getting to know Kekoa, but he needs something to fill the buzzing silence until he finds his stop. “My mom and Kainalu and her were planning on a welcoming party for you… last year? I think? I don’t really remember when. Whatever happened with that?”

“My transfer got delayed again,” Kekoa admits with a sad smile, and no, that’s too wrong on a face so familiar. “At this rate it feels like I’ll never get home to my family.”

Despite the fact that Guzma is pretty sure he’s dying – although, in all honesty, it’s probably just an anxiety attack that has yet to pass – he still finds himself trying to cheer this guy up.

“You’ll get home,” Guzma says as he lurches to his feet, the train coming to a stop and he sways on his feet a bit. “You’ll find your way back, soon.”

Guzma gets off the train before Kekoa can say anything else.

*****

His stop was apparently Celadon City.

Not sure what possible significance this place has, despite an itch in the back of his mind, he wanders.

His heartrate has slowed, albeit barely, and the cold night air has dried away the sweat, but his hands still shake.

The streets are surprisingly empty mostly, but Guzma eventually comes to a stop by a large fountain, string lights casting a soft glow to the area. Before he knows it he’s got his phone out and doesn’t stop himself from pressing the call button this time.

Plumeria was right, he was gonna cave eventually.

Tiluo answers halfway through the second ring.

“Hello?” the kid sounds breathless, like he came running the moment he heard his phone ringing and guilt twists in Guzma’s gut, because he’s probably been waiting to hear from him for a while now. Fuck, he wonders what time it is over there, because it’s late in Kanto, but time zone differences and if Guzma’s sense of time wasn’t terrible before it was blown to hell now.

Shit, he should probably say something.

“It’s me.”

He rests his forehead in his free hand because _‘it’s me’_ was all he could think of to say. But really, he shouldn’t have worried because he can hear Tiluo laughing.

“About time. What took you so long?”

So Guzma tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who has gone through abuse as a child, I hope I'm conveying the aftermath of it well enough because even though it happened years ago it still messes me up and it's difficult to work through wreckage of it. I guess you could say I latched onto Guzma a bit because I never once thought that child abuse, even though it was subtle and could be easily missed, would ever pop up in a Pokemon game, and it really resonated with me. You could even say I've been projecting on him a bit because I was also pretty numb to everything for a while and tried stubbornly to deal with my emotions on my own, although I didn't turn to a life of crime, haha.
> 
> So this is a bit of a PSA I guess? If you know someone who is going through abuse please please _please_ be patient with them and be there for them because I know it can be frustrating and that it's easy to just say "Do something about it" but usually it isn't that easy because it could put them in danger.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for reading and all of the comments and kudos despite my unpredictable update schedule.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life kept getting in the way, but hopefully I'll have more time now to update a little more regularly, though I can't make any promises.
> 
> Just a quick run down of current ages in the story (mostly so I don't get myself confused): Hau, Lillie, and Hapu - 14, Tiluo - 15 (he's a few months older than them), Gladion - 19, Guzma and Plumeria - 20 (soon to be 21).
> 
> And just to reiterate, nothing romantic starts to develop between Tiluo and Guzma until _much_ later in the story. Probably not until Tiluo is around 20, 21.
> 
> (And just for fun, Tiluo's main team: Primarina, Arcanine, Raichu (Alolan form), Marowak (Alolan form), Kommo-o, Solgaleo)

When Guzma was a little kid, when Golisopod was still a small Wimpod, he used to sneak out at night to throw rocks at the stars.

It was from an old story, passed down among the Koko people for generations, where a child who lived on an island no bigger than a canoe, yet covered with rocks, was all alone in the world with only the stars for company.

But the thing is… The thing is, a person can only rely on the company of stars for so long.

Out of frustration and loneliness and fear, the child began to throw the tiny island’s rocks at the night sky, hoping to knock one of the stars out of the sky so it would fall and stay on that miniscule island with them.

The child never did manage to knock a star out of the sky, but all the rocks they threw landed in the ocean and bloomed into other islands; Islands that were large and grew new life, new people. New people who learned to sail the seas and eventually found the rock throwing child and rescued them from their loneliness and frustration and fear.

(Of course there was more to the story than that, but it’s been so long since he last heard the tale that he’s a little fuzzy on some of the details… Okay, more than little fuzzy, he’s missing a lot of details here.)

Guzma had started throwing rocks at the stars in hopes that something similar would happen to him, that he would be saved from his father who was mean and angry at him all the time, to be saved from his own anger and frustration that constantly threatened to swallow him whole until there would be nothing left of him.

He wanted to be saved from loneliness too.

But no one ever did come from somewhere across the sea in a canoe to save him.

Eventually he stopped throwing rocks at the stars.

*****

“What are you doing in Celadon at 2am?” Tiluo asks, the amusement in his voice hiding the worry pretty well, but not enough that Guzma doesn’t notice it.

“Oh you know, sightseeing, being a menace to society. The usual.”

They talk on the phone for so long, mostly about what’s happening back in Alola that he and Plumeria are missing and Guzma complaining about the size of Kanto and its cold climate, that when they have to say their goodbyes the stars are receding and his heart is no longer trying to beat its way out of his chest from panic.

“I should probably head back.”

“Hmm. You should send me a postcard. The Game Corner has some good ones.”

“Sure. I’ll take a look if they’re still open.”

“You should send me a souvenir too.”

“Now you’re just getting greedy, brat,” he grouses, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

After the call has ended, Guzma sits on the bench for a few moments longer, watching the first light of the morning break out over Celadon’s ridiculously tall skyline and he just breathes in deep. 

He’s calmer now than he had been just a few hours ago, but there’s still an itch that runs up and down his nerves that doesn’t seem to want to go away.

Maybe if he tried battling a local god like he did before he left Alola he’d be more at peace, but this isn’t Alola; they don’t build shrines to house what are essentially deities the same way here.

That thought strikes a chord with him; the same. Nothing is the same here, it’s all different. Alien, even.

But hadn’t that been the point of leaving?

To try picking up the pieces of himself and Plumeria somewhere far away from home, so that they didn’t have to worry about fathers or grandmothers smacking what tiny fragments they managed to scrape together out of their hands?

Guzma pulls at his hair to get himself to focus; it’s too easy for him to get lost in his own thoughts. More so than it used to be.

 _Things aren’t the same anymore,_ he thinks to himself. They haven’t been for a while, not since he and Lusamine went into Ultra Space, not since Tiluo showed up in Po Town and wiped the floor with him.

Things started to change back in Malie Garden. If Guzma really sits and thinks about it, things started changing long before then, actually. He probably wouldn’t be able to pinpoint it precisely, but that’s beside the point.

After another minute passes he hauls himself up and starts heading to the train station, no longer feeling like a compass needle spinning out of control.

*****

Guzma does stop by the Game Corner before leaving Celadon City. 

(The place is open 24/7, apparently.)

It’s kind of a weird place, flashing lights bright enough to blind and headache inducing noise and it’s all themed after the criminal organization that used to run it before they got wrecked by a 10 year old kid.

Of course, it’s not like Guzma can really talk; his own criminal gang got wrecked by a kid too.

Shit, he even remembers hearing about Team Rocket getting taken down all those years ago. He doesn’t really remember much about it though; he’d only been about 5 at the time.

It’s weird, when he thinks about it as he ignores the slot machines and card tables and makes a beeline for prize and gifts counter, how it always seems that it’s kids going up against and taking out crime syndicates. Really says something about how effective law enforcement is if whole countries rely on literal children to fix things. Because it's actually really fucking dangerous for kids to be responsible for that and–

And wow, he really needs to _stop. Thinking. So much._ Because he can feel a migraine lurking behind his eyes, brought on by lack of sleep and the too bright lights and the noise that matches the throbbing in his skull.

Guzma shuts his eyes tight and tries to control his breathing.

In for 4. Hold for 7. Out for 8.

There’s static and an ocean floor that isn’t what it looks like behind his eyelids.

There weren’t any stars in that place. No stars to guide him back, doomed to be lost in a place in between places.

When he opens his eyes there’s an odd tilt to the world around him, a sense of unreality tinging everything around him, as if his very existence taints the existence of everything and everyone else.

But then he blinks and the unreality falls away and it’s just the Game Corner again and a phantom-aftertaste of ozone and brine.

It’s jarring, to say the least.

(He ends up buying a postcard with a goofy looking pink Pokémon on the front.)

*****

Plumeria’s sitting out on the deck when he comes trudging his way up the dirt road, eyes closed with her face tilted up to the sun.

Her eyes open when flops down into the chair next to hers.

Without a word, she passes him a mug of coffee and takes a sip from her own.

“Was wondering when you’d come back. Long night?” she asks eventually, letting the question hang between them.

“Something like that,” Guzma grunts back, feeling utterly drained. He kinda wants to just crawl back into bed and sleep for the rest of the day, but he knows that’ll mess up his sleeping pattern and it was tricky enough adjusting from Alola’s time zone to Kanto’s. “Ended up in Celadon.”

“Long way to go in the middle of the night.”

Shrugging, Guzma looks down at his coffee, watches his reflection looking back at him. “Didn’t care too much about where I went. I called Tiluo.”

Plumeria’s plucked eyebrows rise in vague surprise. “Huh.”

He shoots her a look but she just waves it off.

“Thought you’d try being stubborn for a little while longer is all,” she explains before draining the last of her coffee and they sit in silence. Plumeria’s face falls back into a serious expression. “I was thinking of going to Goldenrod today.”

That’s… wow. Guzma doesn’t think he has any words for that even though there’s a lot he could say. 

_Are you sure? Do you really want to? I think that’s a bad idea._

He doesn’t say any of this though; it’s her decision and he won’t stop her if this is what she really wants to do. And honestly, if she really didn’t want to do this then she wouldn’t have even brought it up.

“You want me to come with?” Guzma asks before finally taking a sip of his own coffee and grimaces at the bitter taste of it.

Plumeria nods.

“You know where she is?” he asks, and it’s a dumb question because of _course_ Plumeria knows where she is; Plumeria also wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t know the address.

But Plumeria doesn’t say anything, just nods again.

With an internal sigh, Guzma downs the rest of the bitter coffee and stands up, taking Plumeria’s empty mug as well. “I’ll go let tadpole know where we’re going.”

*****

The train ride from Kanto to Johto – from Cerulean to Saffron to Goldenrod – is packed tight with people despite the morning rush hour being long since over. They manage to find a good spot by the train car’s doors, watching the world pass by and the scenery change as they speed along the tracks.

No words are said between them; there doesn’t need to be. Guzma knows why Plumeria is doing this. She wants answers and she deserves them. The only problem is if she’ll actually _get_ those answers.

A glance out of the corner of his eye and Guzma can see the slight tension in her shoulders, arms crossed in front of her as she steadfastly keeps her attention on the world outside the window.

She’s nervous but Plumeria hides it well, deals with it in a way that kinda makes Guzma envious; he wishes he could deal with his own emotions and issues in a quiet way instead of loud and brash and far too chaotic. But he brushes aside that small flare of envy. He can learn too, he just needs to be patient with himself and he has to suppress a self-deprecating snort at that; Guzma has little to no patience, especially for himself.

He’s pulled out of his spiraling, self-reflective thoughts when Plumeria lightly kicks at his shin.

“We’re here,” she says quietly and nods at the fast approaching station, Goldenrod’s skyline looming over them.

*****

Plumeria leads the way through the crowded streets of Goldenrod City, Guzma following after her with his hands shoved into his pockets.

They go from the busier streets of business to the more subdued residential area of row houses; they look nice – _really_ nice – reminding him a little of what Po Town used to look like before the gang took it over, although this place doesn’t look like a really rich area, but more well off than other places.

And then Plumeria stops in front of one of the houses and stares at it for a brief moment before going right up to the door, Guzma going with her, and ringing the doorbell.

It takes a minute, but then a woman who is roughly late thirties to maybe mid-forties opens the door; the lady has the same straight brown hair that Guzma knows Plumeria has when she doesn’t dye it, and the same face and eye shape. He sees the exact moment the woman’s face falls into shock at the sight of them.

“Hi mom,” Plumeria says.

*****

It’s awkward, to say the least.

The place looks too pristine and Guzma has a brief urge to make the framed photographs on the wall uneven, just to make it bearable. The photos on the wall show a whole life and family that doesn’t include Plumeria; her mom, her mom’s new husband, and her half-brother and half-sister she never even knew about until now. Anger boils in him because he can’t stop thinking about her mom left her and started this new life without her and shame tinges that anger because he basically did the same thing not so long ago when he disbanded Team Skull.

But he shoves the anger down as much as he can, because Plumeria wants answers and Guzma isn’t going to ruin that for her just because he has a shitty temper.

“You seem to be doing well,” Plumeria’s mom says, a nervous strain at the corners of her eyes and mouth, trying to make small talk that Plumeria clearly isn’t going for.

“You got a new family,” Plumeria says in response, her own anger tinging her words, but it’s more subdued, more controlled and to the point, and that’s the thing about Plumeria; she knows where to strike so it hurts because her mom looks down at her lap where her hands rest. “You left me and started a new family like I didn’t exist—”

“Plumeria, that’s not—”

“I want to know _why,”_ Plumeria grits out through clenched teeth and her mom looks even more ashamed, though Guzma can’t tell if it’s because someone is calling her out on her shit or if it’s because she has her abandoned child sitting in front of her in her new home.

Guzma glances at the pictures on the wall again; the husband looks like a corporate man and the son looks like he’s maybe a year or two younger than Gladion, the daughter looks younger than Lillie and Tiluo. A happy little family that has nothing to do with an abandoned girl from Alola. Plumeria’s mom fidgets and wrings her hands.

The silence drags on for a very long time, for far too long and there’s no answer from Plumeria’s mom.

“My children will be home soon. You should go,” she quietly says and just like that, Guzma can feel the electric crack in the air, the brewing storm of conflict from the lady’s nervous dismissal and Plumeria’s fury. 

For a brief moment, Guzma thinks Plumeria is going to fucking lose it.

Instead, she gets up from her seat on the couch and sneers at her mom.

“Pathetic.”

And then Plumeria storms out of the room and Guzma follows after her, making one of the framed photographs in the entrance hall crooked on his way out.

*****

They don’t get back on the train to Saffron.

Not right away, anyhow.

They end up on the department store’s roof and Plumeria’s gripping the railing so tightly that Guzma wouldn’t be surprised if she ripped it right out. She’s seething silently, hardened gaze fixed on the city below them; Guzma doesn’t say anything either, just leans against the railing and presses their shoulders together in silent comfort.

“She never wanted me,” Plumeria says and there’s… there’s _something_ in her voice when she says it. Something that reminds Guzma of how he felt every time he screwed something up as a kid that brought on his old man’s anger and disappointment. “Her kids don’t even know about me.”

“Her loss,” Guzma says in response; it’s probably not the right thing to say, it ain’t eloquent or deep and meaningful in any way, but the way Plumeria leans against him slightly means she appreciates it anyway.

“Her loss,” she agrees.

*****

Guzma looks through the department store shops on their way out and thinks back to the phone call with Tiluo; he’s already sent off a postcard to the kid and he said he wasn’t going to send a souvenir, but…

But his eye catches on the tackiest thing he’s ever seen and that’s including the stuff he’s seen in the tourist trap shops back in Alola.

It’s one of those cheaply made, awful looking snow globes and he already knows he’s going to buy it send it to the brat because Guzma _knows_ he’ll get a kick out of it.

(And also maybe as an apology for bowing out without at least saying bye.)

*****

Not even a week after the phone call with Tiluo, after sending off the snow globe, something shows up in the mail.

Bill just hands over a small package without a word, and Guzma takes it, brow furrowed in confusion.

He opens it up to find a folded piece of paper at the top.
    
    
    I was going to give this to you a lot sooner, but you and Plumeria went to Kanto before I could. So here, since you gave me your lucky charm I figure it’s only right that I give you a new one.
    
    
    – Tiluo

Guzma tips the small box until a Star Piece falls into his open palm, shining bright in the sunlight. He holds it up until he can see the light filtering through it turn a soft red and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a half smile at the gift.

It reminds him of the kid who threw rocks at the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of curious as to why some people think Guzma is the same age as Kukui? Kukui seems like he's in his mid to late thirties to me whereas Guzma seems to be relatively young (somewhere around 17 in the game, since Trial Captains retire around 20). Like, a lot of it I think stems from the confrontation/conversation in Malie Garden where Guzma refers to the both of them as "fellow rejects who never could become captains." But I feel like that's more of a common knowledge kind of thing if that makes sense? They probably knew of each other, but I don't think they ever actually met before then.
> 
> And Team Skull is literally a gang of teenagers who don't respect authority figures and/or adults so there's honestly no way Guzma could be older than _maybe_ 19 in the game if that's the case.


End file.
